


What Goes Undiscussed

by LSims



Category: Bandstand - Oberacker/Oberacker & Taylor
Genre: 20th Century, Death, Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slurs, WWll, War, ship wreck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSims/pseuds/LSims
Summary: Jimmy Campbell's been through a lot. Too bad he keeps his guard up and never talks about it.
Relationships: Jimmy Campbell/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	What Goes Undiscussed

**Author's Note:**

> Can ya'll tell I know nothing about the military?  
> Also, the scene tm hurt me as much as it'll hurt ya'll.

Jimmy Campbell is eight years old when he abandons his toy planes to go read. He sneaks a glance at his father, who’s asleep on the sofa. His mother is out back, talking with a neighbor. Clara is at a friend’s house. If he plays his stakes carefully, he can do this. 

He knows it’s an odd thing, to have to sneak books, and it’s not like his parents actively discourage learning. They  _ expect  _ him to get good grades. But lately, Thomas and Mary Campbell have begun to worry that Jimmy was reading  _ too  _ much, instead of being interested in sports like most boys his age. So they limited his reading to school work and pushed him to spend his free time engaging in more “masculine” activities. 

It wasn’t working.

And so, with the stealth of a soldier sneaking across enemy lines, Jimmy went to the bookshelf, grabbed a magazine that detailed the great musicians of the twentieth century so far, and snuck off to the bathroom. And, for a glorious half-hour, he’s in his own world. 

Jimmy is twelve when he realizes that junior high is the France of the Great War, and elementary was America. He stands in the doorway of the lunchroom, chewing his lip as he debates where to sit. He knows he ought to sit with the boys, but he just  _ can’t  _ relate to them. They don’t care about law cases and instruments, only sports and girls. 

Speaking of, Jimmy’s not exactly sure he wants to sit with the girls, either. Sure, he  _ fits  _ with them better, but he knows sitting with girls is an elementary thing. Just as he’s about to say  _ screw it  _ and hide out in the restrooms with his books, Lucille calls him over, and Jimmy gives in. She’s in a band, like him. Well, like he wants to be. Jimmy starts to think that maybe this arrangement could work out, he and Lucille and her friends. The boys disagree.

He doesn’t even make it out of the locker room. It’s Clara that finds him, and  _ he’s lucky she’s still around to help him out _ , she says. Twelve is also the year where Jimmy realizes that he’s starting to doubt himself—and his parents—as his father rambles on about “asking for it, the way you act,” and “are you  _ trying  _ to be a faerie?” His mother, of course, just looks on and shakes her head. 

Jimmy is thirteen when he works up the courage to ask for a saxophone for his birthday. Mary sighs. 

“Saxophones are expensive.” 

“Yes, and? Dad’s a doctor, we have the money.”

He regrets the statement as soon as it’s out, and he braces himself for the blow. Miraculously, it never comes. Instead, his father says “You don’t need a saxophone.”

“Why?”

Clara raises an eyebrow at Jimmy from across the room. He knows he’s pushing his luck, and he can hear his parents’ patience running thinner by the second. 

“Why don’t you like sports, son? Baseball is the favorite pastime of  _ lots  _ of thirteen-year-old boys.”

“I just don’t.” 

“But you’ve never even  _ tried  _ baseball.” 

Jimmy starts to retort back, but his mother cuts him off. “Look, James, let’s strike a deal.  _ You  _ go with your father tomorrow and try out for the baseball league, and if you absolutely  _ bomb  _ the tryout, we’ll see about getting you a saxophone.”

“Deal.”

“But under absolutely  _ no  _ circumstances will that thing be practiced in the house! I do  _ not  _ need that kind of racket disturbing the peace of our home!”

Clara winks at him and says that once she finds herself a fella and moves out, he’s welcome to practice at her place anytime.

To say he bombs the try out is an understatement. Jimmy doesn’t care, even as his father mutters about “doing it on purpose.” 

As far as Jimmy’s concerned, when he unwraps that sax on his fourteenth birthday, he’s the happiest boy in the world. 

He’s fifteen when he tells his father he wants to be a lawyer. He nearly gets thrown out of the house.

“What in the hell makes you think you wanna be a lawyer?! In the middle of a damn depression, too!”

“People are always seeking justice, especially now,” Jimmy replies calmly, daring to look his father in the eye. 

Thomas scoffs. “Justice, ha! You want justice, buy back the stocks I lost back in twenty-nine! Besides, you know doctors hate lawyers, son.”

“They wouldn’t need to if they didn’t have seedy practices,” Jimmy muttered. 

“What was that, son?” His father asks, suddenly looking very tall. Jimmy swallows and looks at his feet. 

“Nothing, sir.”

“Well, I’m just glad he didn’t decide to be a ‘professional’ musician.” His mother says from the kitchen. “At least being a lawyer he can make money.”

“Yeah, by sucking people like me dry.” His father mutters. “Look, you wanna go to law school? Fine. But you’d better start saving your pennies now because the funds sure as hell won’t come from me.”

“Fine.” 

He receives a mysterious envelope in the mail the next week. In it is $15 and a note that reads  _ From me and my fella to the lawyer. PS don’t tell Mom and Dad! _

Jimmy wonders how his sister came across that much money.

Jimmy is sixteen when his life changes forever. High school is not as hellish as junior, though he can’t escape unscathed. The boys know better than to mess with him when Lucille’s around, but he still gets beat on in the locker room, and they still hiss  _ queer  _ and  _ faggot _ at him whenever he passes by. It doesn’t bother Jimmy, he’s not like that. But then he meets Louis Miller. 

Louis’ curls are the color of the caramel candies Clara likes. They fall across his face like a beagle whose ears are too big for him. And  _ god  _ is his grin is enticing. He plays the guitar, too. Before Jimmy knows it, they’ve hit it off. 

He learns a lot about Louis Miller. He’s a farm boy from Tennessee ( _ with that accent?  _ Jimmy jokes.  _ I would’ve never guessed _ ) who moved up to Cleveland to stay with his grandparents after the crop failed this year. He’s strong,  _ impeccably  _ handsome, and he makes Jimmy laugh harder than he’s ever laughed before. 

Some boys would say stuff, about the two of them. Louis straightened them out real quick. Jimmy tries to deny it, but he knows they’re right. 

He’s sixteen-and-a-half when he kisses Louis. It’s quick, and Jimmy stumbles back, eyes wide with horror. 

“Louis, I—”

But the other boy  _ laughs _ . “Jimmy, it’s  _ alright _ . Honestly, I’ve been wantin’ to do that for a while too.”

And then their kiss is long. 

Jimmy is seventeen when he tells his sister. She’s getting married, to the guy who helped start his law school fund. (He’s long since paid them back.) He pulls her into an empty storage room, halfway through the reception.

“Jimmy, what’s wrong?” Clara asks, full of concern. 

“I’m a homosexual.”

“I— _ what _ ?”

“I like boys, Clara.”

“Oh.”

She pulls him tight to her chest. “I’ll always love you, alright?  _ Always _ . This doesn’t change a thing.”

“I know.”

“Besides, I think I’ve honestly always known.”

“Do Mom and Dad…?”

She rolls her eyes. “They’re in denial.  _ Don’t  _ tell them, though.” 

Jimmy snorts. “I’m not an idiot.”

She pulls him close again. “I hope you never need it, but, if you ever need a place to stay, Rob and I’s door is always open.”

“Alright.”

He’s just turned eighteen when his life falls apart. 

Jimmy’s just walked through the door when he’s met with a scowling mother and a father who looks like he’s about to blow. 

“What’s going—”

“Sit down, James.” Mary interrupts, voice colder than a midwestern winter. 

He sits.

“Mister and Misses Miller called me earlier.” She said.

“Oh?” Jimmy replies, foolishly ignoring the feeling of dread pouring over him.

“They told me something  _ very  _ interesting, James. They told me that they had heard Louis sneaking in around one AM a couple of days ago, which I thought was very interesting, because that’s around the same time  _ you  _ snuck in, James. Why might that be, I ask?”

Jimmy knows better than to play dumb. His parents know him too well for that. So instead he says “We’re friends, Mom. Can’t two boys go stay out late picking up girls in peace?”

“You know, I told Mrs. Miller that, but do you want to know what she told me? She said that’s the same  _ exact  _ thing Louis told her, but she didn’t believe him. So, she pressed him for the truth, and you would not  _ believe  _ what he said.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, she said that Louis told her that he had been  _ alone  _ with you that night. And I said ‘Well Ada, that sounds a little suspicious, wouldn’t you think?’ and Ada agreed, so she questioned Louis even further, and would you like to know what he said, James? He confessed that he had been in a  _ romantic  _ relationship with  _ you _ , and that you two had been  _ fooling around  _ together.”

Jimmy sighed. Louis may have been able to intimidate the boys in school to get off his back, but he couldn’t intimidate his grandparents. 

“Well? Is it true?”

“I…” he knows there’s no way he can get out of this. “ _ Yes _ .”

His mother sobs. “I—I don’t understand. How did I go wrong? I tried so hard to set you out on the right path…”

That did it. Jimmy snapped. “You know, if you want to blame this on something, blame yourselves for repressing me so much that this was  _ bound  _ to happen.”

In the next second, he’s on the floor and his face on fire. 

“How  _ dare  _ you talk to my wife like that?” Thomas yells. His father takes a deep breath and points a finger to the door. “Get out.”

“W-what?”

“Get out of my house.” 

“But my stuff—”

“Forget your shit, I’m selling it.  _ Get _ .  _ Out _ .”

Jimmy doesn’t know why he went to his sister’s house. He stands there awkwardly, unsure of what to say. “You know your offer from last year?”

Clara sobs and embraces him. “I am so,  _ so  _ sorry Jimmy.” She looks him up and down. “Where’s your stuff?”

“Dad’s selling it.” 

Her eyes narrow. “I’ll get it.”

“No, I don’t want you to—”

“ _ No _ . My offer still stands. You can stay with us  _ as long as you need _ , rent-free. I’ll get your stuff. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He thinks this is the worst his life can ever get. Oh boy, is he wrong? 

Jimmy is twenty-one the year his life turns upside down again. He’s lounging around the living room, studying for his big test the next day when Rob turns on the radio and the announcer says “Attention all listeners! We are breaking into your regularly scheduled programming to inform you all of breaking news that the Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor!” 

Clara screams, Rob’s jaw drops, and Jimmy abandons all studying. They spend all day glued to the radio, and they go to bed way later than they should have. Jimmy’s test gets canceled. 

A week later, he talks to Rob while Clara’s at the store. 

“Are you gonna enlist?” He asks. 

“I want to, but…” the man gestures towards his shoes, “flat feet. Are  _ you  _ going to?” 

Jimmy sighs. “I don’t know. I feel like I  _ should _ , but…”

“Well you’d better decide soon, or your draft notice will do it for you.”

They talk about it in his classes. 

“I think you should do it,” John says. “We have a duty to defend our country.”

“ _ I  _ think you should do what  _ you  _ want to do.” Elizabeth counters. Jimmy sighs again.

“I mean, part of me feels like I  _ have  _ to, and I  _ do  _ feel a need to help defend my country, but the pacifist part of me disagrees.”

“I hate to break it to you, but the war was pretty inevitable, Campbell.”

Jimmy rolls his eyes. “I’m fully aware of that, John. I just...gotta think about it.” 

“Better decide before the draft does.” 

“I know.”

That afternoon he helps a Japanese woman load her groceries into her car, and cusses out a boy who calls him a Jap lover. As he walks home, he has an epiphany: if sacrificing his life for the war means he’s one step closer to ending it as soon as possible, he’s willing to take it.

Jimmy calls his parents the next afternoon. “Mom?” 

He hears her sharp intake of breath and the crackling as she goes to hang up. “Mom, please, I’m—I’m joining the Navy.”

A pause. “I—can you tell Dad, please?”

A heavy sigh. “I will.”

She hangs up.

Clara glares at him from the sofa. “I can’t believe you’d make a stupid decision like this.”

He gawks at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about!”

“No, I actually don’t, please feel free to enlighten me.”

She lets out an exasperated sob. “I will  _ not _ have you going out and getting yourself killed just to please Mom and Dad!”

“I—” He takes a deep breath. “I’m  _ not  _ enlisting to please them. I’m enlisting because I  _ want _ to so that your kids don’t have to follow in my footsteps.”

“Then why are you joining the Navy?”

“Because I want to.”

“You don’t owe Dad anything, alright? You know that?”

“I know, Clara. I’m not doing it for him.”

It’s the first lie he’s ever told his sister. 

* * *

Jimmy is still twenty-one when he graduates boot camp. It took him six weeks. He’s also still-twenty-one when he starts smoking. They’re included in his rations apparently. He signed up to end this damn war, but here he is, not even having stepped foot on a ship yet, and already wondering if the cigarettes will get to him before the torpedoes do. No matter, he tells himself. He needs something in his mouth, and at least cigarettes are better than getting blown up because he was chewing his fingernails instead of manning the gun.

Jimmy is twenty-two when he first steps foot on the  _ Reid _ . He’s deploying from San Francisco, which is the biggest city he’s seen in his life. 

Twenty-two is also the year Jimmy meets Aaron Miller. His hair is dark, his skin a pale olive. There’s some Italian dashed in him, he says. His grin is intoxicating,  _ he’s  _ intoxicating. Jimmy’s learned his lesson, he’s not gonna fall for that again. 

He is twenty-two and a half when he has his first battle. They’re attacking enemy territory in Guadalcanal. At first, it’s exhilarating, the rush as he runs to the gun and fires it, but soon the screams are louder than the firing, and his hand  _ won’t stop vibrating _ , and  _ he didn’t think it would be like this _ . Aaron comes up to him after it’s all over. Silently slides onto his bunk, and takes his hand, squeezes it. Their eyes meet, and Jimmy sighs. There’s a moment of understanding.  _ Maybe _ , he thinks,  _ maybe letting someone in is the only way to survive this hell _ . 

They let go, and, simultaneously, without a word, take out a cigarette, and light it. 

Their relationship is slow. They have some time, during Solomon Island patrols, to get to know one another. It was so rushed, with Louis. Jimmy thinks he likes it better this way. 

They have to be careful, of course. There’s always someone watching, for someone like him. They lay their stakes. Working on deck together, volunteering for KP, sneaking over to each other’s bunks in the dead of night. They tell each other their secrets. Aaron joined because he didn’t have a choice. His Dad had said Navy or high water, and Aaron had made his choice. He agrees with Jimmy that they have to do their part to end this thing once and for all. It’s already been a year too long.

Jimmy is twenty-three when he and Aaron make it official. Well, between them, at least. They’re alone in the kitchen, enjoying some downtime while patrolling in New Guinea. He’s sitting on a stool while Aaron cooks up a “luxurious” meal from their rations. Their SPAM and sweet potatoes. 

“That smells delicious,” Jimmy says, grinning. Aaron smirks.

“Well, I’m making it, so…”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, please.”

Aaron flips the meal a final time, before pouring it onto two small plates. He hands one to Jimmy, as well as a fork. “ _ Bon appetite _ .” 

The blond rolls his eyes once more and takes a bite. His eyes widen and he swallows. “I, well,  _ damn _ . I stand corrected.”

“Wonder how many people have gotten  _ that _ privilege.” 

Aaron leans against Jimmy, and he ignores the beat his heart skips.

“So, what’d the letter from your sister say?”

Jimmy swallows his current bite. The plates already clean, and Aaron laughs at it. 

“Oh, just that she’s well, misses me, and sends me her love.” He pauses. “She’s pregnant.”

Aaron whistles. “Damn.” 

“Yeah, damn.”

The brunett takes Jimmy’s hand and squeezes it, just like he did all those months ago. “Hey, your gonna make it back, okay? Your gonna meet her kid. I swear it. We’ll meet it together.”

_ Together. We’ll meet it together,  _ he said. Jimmy washes his plate and puts it up, and then before he knows what he’s doing his nose is against Aaron’s, and he’s nodding  _ yes _ and their lips meet and then their tongues, and they’re on the floor, and it’s steamy, it’s passionate, and it’s  _ real _ . 

They must have been there for hours, absorbing each other’s warmth, exploring each other.  _ Loving  _ each other. Then Jimmy hears footsteps, and they look at each other, eyes wide. There’s a mad scramble as they push their backs against the counter, desperately trying to soften their breaths. 

“Hello?” A voice, their Captain, calls. They don’t answer, frozen in terrified silence. The Captain eventually leaves, and soon they’re on the floor again, crying with laughter. Jimmy finds his voice, eventually, and looks at Aaron. “I didn’t know, that you were like me.” He says.

“What, ‘I was forced into the Navy’ didn’t give it away? My Dad found me, with a boy from church. He beat the shit outta me and then told me I could either ‘prove I was a man and join the Navy, or get the hell out.’ I chose the former.”

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy replies. Then he adds “I’m gonna be a lawyer when this is all over. I’m gonna make sure that shit doesn’t happen, that we  _ could  _ be public, out here.”

Aaron kisses him. “And I’ll be there cheering you on when you do.” He gets up and pulls Jimmy up with him. “C’mon, we better get to bed.”

It doesn’t last. 

He’s twenty-four when his life really  _ does _ become the worst it could ever get. They’ve been hammered by Japs for the past two weeks, and by now Jimmy hardly feels human. Sleep is lost on him, on all of them, and they resign themselves to leaning up against walls with their eyes closed and then snapping them open and clambering to the deck. 

He’s with Aaron, scarfing down some ration SPAM when the sirens blare. He groans and drops the plate. They make their way to the deck when suddenly there’s explosion after explosion, bang after bang, and the ship gives a sickening crack. Then, there’s a deathly burst of heat, and he’s in the water. 

It takes him a second to realize what’s happened. The cold shocks him out of his daze. Jimmy looks up and sees a blurry image of what looks like his ship breaking in half and sinking. Screams fill his ears and he wonders what the afterlife holds.

Ice water fills his nose and he gives a great gasp, suddenly alert, and he starts to paddle. He spots a large piece of metal and climbs onto it, ignoring his chattering teeth. 

Suddenly his heart drops.  _ Aaron _ . Jimmy completely forgot about him. His eyes widen, and he tries to focus, squinting, trying to spot his boyfriend amidst the carnage. “Aaron?” He calls out, shocked at how weak his voice already sounds. He’s a native Clevelander, he knows cold, but does it seriously work this quick? “Aaron?” He calls again, fighting against his burning legs to make some movement. “Aaron Miller?”

There are a million brunett heads in the water, both moving and not. It’s all a giant blur, but Jimmy pushes on. He’d know Aaron anywhere. “Aaron John Miller!” He yells, voice cracking with effort. 

Jimmy cries out with the pain of moving his legs as he pushes himself forward again. He bumps into something. Soft, yet coated with a hard layer of ice. He looks down and lets out a strangled sob.  _ Aaron _ . 

It’s Aaron, with chunks of ice coating his hair like a child’s frosted cookie. It’s Aaron, whose head is rolled back, not in laughter, but in permanently contorted pain. It’s Aaron, whose olive tone is now completely blue. It’s Aaron, whose shining eyes are now lifeless and glassy, unseeing. It’s Aaron, whose mouth is parted in shock instead of a smirk. It’s Aaron, the only man whom Jimmy has ever truly loved who’s floating in the water with a piece of shrapnel sticking out of his chest and whose body is practically an icicle. 

“Aaron.” Jimmy sobs, weakly reaching out his own blue fingers towards his love. 

“Jimmy.” It’s a weak whisper. The brunett makes no,  _ cannot _ move, towards his lover. He cannot even look at him. But he breathes his name out. “ _ Jimmy _ .”

“Aaron.” The blond replies, frantic pacing in his voice. “Aaron i-i-i-t’s g-g-gon-n-na be ok-k-ay. You’re g-g-gonna be a-a-a-alright-t-t. St-st-stay with m-me.” He tries to reach out for the shrapnel, but his fingers burn when they meet the metal, and he whips them back in pain. 

“Jimmy...I love…” Aaron doesn’t get to finish the sentence.

“N-n-no,” Jimmy says. “No!” He repeats the phrase, getting shriller and more frantic each time. “No!” He lets go of the metal he’s floating on and makes a great, final push to his love. He clings to him, shaking and freezing and tired and on fire and sobbing for all he’s lost. “No.” 

Nothing else matters to him. Not Clara, not his parents, not the war, nor anything. Just Aaron. All he wants is to lay here and die, which seems to be happening very quickly, judging on his sluggish thoughts. 

“Campbell!” A voice calls. He weakly looks up and sees a raft full of men. Does he know them? He must. They look concerned. 

“Campbell, are you alright? We’re gonna get you up in the raft buddy.”

Jimmy’s eyes widen in horror and he clings to Aaron tighter. “No!” He shrieks hysterically as they approach. “No! I n-need t-t-t-to stay w-w-with A-aron…”

He sobs harder and shrieks louder as two of the men reach over and try to pull him off. “No!”

Jimmy tries to fight, but he’s too weak. His arms burn as they pry them from his lover and slowly lift him up. Suddenly, he has a thought.  _ The dog tags _ . 

Aaron had told him once, when they first started dating, that he wanted Jimmy to have his dog tags. He reaches out for them, using the last of his strength to cling to the burning metal chain with dear life. 

A man reaches out and starts to pry his fingers from them, and Jimmy resumes his shrieking. “No! I n-need them. I p-p-promised—”

“I’ll get them for you, okay buddy?” The man said. “I promise.” He finally manages to break Jimmy’s grip and heaves him up onto the raft. 

“No! I need them! I p-promised I’d t-t-take them!” Jimmy shrieks, still hysterically sobbing. 

The man hands Aaron’s dog tags to Jimmy and closes his fist around them. The group of men floats onward, and Jimmy lays sprawled on the floor, staring out at the horizon with Frozen tears as he watches Aaron Miller’s body float down to the bottom of the sea. 

He wakes up in the infirmary of the rescue ship god knows how much later. He lays in the bed, staring down at the two pairs of dog tags that he now wears around his neck. He wishes he was dead, a skeleton at the bottom of the sea, arm in arm with Aaron. It’s a long time before that wish goes away.

Jimmy is twenty-five when he gets sent home. It’s not in August though, when the war ends. No, it’s in July, a month earlier, all courtesy of his Lieutenant Commander. 

Lieutenant George Evans is a stern man. He runs his crew with utmost precision. And he has no tolerance for “fairies” in his crew. True, they may be brave in battle, but off the field, they’re trouble. 

They’re weak. They cry after a battle. They distract their brother’s, preying on their loneliness. Lt. Commander Evans doesn’t hate homosexuals. He just doesn’t think they belong in war. So he sends them home. 

Jimmy knows Lt. Commander Evans roots out the homos. He knows this, so he avoids him at all costs. He keeps Aaron’s dog tags tucked into his shirt. He does what he’s told, and nothing more. He keeps his guard up, and he gets by. That’s all he can do anymore. 

After the  _ Reid _ , Jimmy gets sent to another ship. The  _ Virgo _ . He was still alive enough to lose his life again. It’s a fine ship, the  _ Virgo _ , but it’s not the  _ Reid _ . It doesn’t matter though, after all,  _ Reid’s _ gone. 

Of course, it’s just Jimmy’s luck that he bumps into Evans while heading out to the deck for a smoke. 

“Oh, hi Campbell.” The man says, eyes smiling warmly.

Jimmy nods rather curtly. “Lieutenant.” 

“Heading out for a smoke?” Evans asks, eyeing the pack Jimmy’s holding.

“Yes sir.”

“Well, enjoy it.” He eyes Jimmy’s neck, where the second dog tag is clearly visible. “Two dog tags?” He asks.

Jimmy looks down and sucks in a breath. “Oh, yeah.”

“We accidentally give you a copy?”

Jimmy gives a short laugh. “Yeah, something like that.” 

The Lieutenant quirks an eyebrow. “Seriously, who’re tags are those?” 

Jimmy inhales. “A guy from  _ Reid _ . He didn’t make it.”

“Christ, I’m sorry. But, you didn’t give them to your superior so they could alert his family?”

“He wanted me to have them.”

Evans stands there for a moment before his eyes widen. He recovers quickly and looks at Campbell, reading him. He’s tense. 

“Well, you and that man must have been rather...close.”

“We were.” 

Jimmy bids the Lieutenant goodbye and starts to leave, but Evans stops him. 

“You must be pretty sick of ships and water huh?”

Jimmy laughs and rolls his eyes. “No, I never want to leave. Yeah, the day I can step on land and never have to leave it will be a great day indeed.”

“I can send you home, you know.” 

Jimmy looks at the Lieutenant, wide-eyed. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“I could get you off this ship.”

“How, exactly?”

“You know how.”

Jimmy shakes his head. “Whatever your thinking sir, you’re wrong.”

Evans sighs. “You’re a bit of a wallflower, Campbell. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re a hell of a gunner, but you’re... quiet. You follow orders, and you keep your head down. You’re a bit... _ too  _ quiet, Campbell. It seems... _ deliberate _ . It concerned me. So, I asked one of the guys who transferred with you from the  _ Reid _ , Dawson, I think his name is, about you. He said you're kind of an odd guy. He said that back when the ship was going down, you were clinging to this guy, Aaron. Well, that’s who the tags belong to, I guess. He said you were hysterical, insisting on staying with this guy, insisting you have his tags. They assumed it was the trauma of the situation, but I thought it was odd that you had this reaction to this guy, and not to any other of your fallen brothers.”

“Yeah, well, as I said, we were close,” Jimmy says darkly.

“You need to go home, Campbell. This isn’t the place for you.”

“You have no proof.” Jimmy snaps.

Evans raises his eyebrow.

“What, you’re gonna discharge me for keeping a guy’s dog tags? For having  _ sexual relations  _ with a guy who’s corpse is at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean?”

He gasps. “Shit.” 

“I think I will, yeah,” Evans replies. He sighs. “Don’t make this hard, Campbell, it’s for the best.”

“I’ll get no benefits!”

“You’ll have the benefit of being home.”

“Yeah, with no money. medical help, and no way of getting a job!

“Does it really matter, sir? They’re saying the war will be over within a few months!”

“Do you honestly believe that?”

Jimmy sighs. “I—I’m not a distraction, sir. I’m just as good of soldier as any of my—”

“But you don’t belong on the battlefield, Campbell. It’s just not your place.” He sighs. “Look, just come into my office, sign a confession, and I’ll send it to the court-martial, and, when we dock in Sacramento in July, you can officially leave the war behind.”

Jimmy inhales. “Fine. Call me when you need me to give you my shame. I’m going to go enjoy my last days on this ship smoking a cigarette.”

Jimmy is twenty-five when he knocks on his sister’s door. It’s been three years, but he feels like he’s aged a century. And he certainly hasn’t left the war behind.

Clara opens the door and sobs, embracing him. He’s crying too. She lets him and he stands by the coat rack, dressed in civilian clothes, clutching his suitcase, unsure of what to say. The dog tags, both his and Aaron’s, sit in his pocket. He had to sneak them out. 

“I didn’t want to do it, you know. My Lieutenant Commander made me—”

“It doesn’t matter, you’re home now,” Clara says. 

“Yeah, and you can work in my office,” Rob says. Jimmy smiles gratefully.

“Thanks, but I’ll think about it. I need to go unpack.”

He steps into his room and drops the suitcase on the floor. Laying on his bed is his saxophone case. He walks over and opens it, stroking the instrument with tears in his eyes. He picks it up, fingers the keys, and begins to play. 


End file.
